


Floating and Sleeping Patterns

by Diary



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Bechdel Test Fail, Canon Character of Color, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Disturbing Themes, Family, Friendship/Love, Late Night Conversations, M/M, POV Multiple, Romance, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7006888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at Michael trying to navigate his fake marriage with Cyrus. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Floating and Sleeping Patterns

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Scandal.

Michael tries to keep his eyes open.

There are rare nights when Cyrus will come home and want to spend time with Ella. Usually, the three of them will end up on Cyrus’s bed watching TV. Ella’s too young to fully understand it, but she likes The Daily Show, and Cyrus often manages to have kid-appropriate conversations with her about what they’re watching.

Tonight, they’re talking about the Phelps clan picketing funerals, and if he weren’t so drowsy, he’d probably interject. Ella’s suggestion is to soak them with water guns or shoot paint guns at them, and the problem isn’t him and Cyrus both really liking this idea, the problem is, they are grownups and should make an effort to explain why, no matter how tempting, it would be wrong to do this.

He blinks, and now, they’re discussing what Ella had for lunch.

Then, he blinks again, and the room is dark. Ella’s lying curled up on top of him underneath the sheets, and Cyrus is nowhere to be found.

Carefully, he manages to move her off him without waking her and goes to the bathroom. When he comes back and grabs his phone to see if Cyrus left him a voicemail or text about having to go back to work, he finds Cyrus’s phone lying next to his.

When he starts going through the house, it doesn’t take him long to discover Cyrus is sleeping on the living room couch.

Sighing, he tries to push aside his hurt, readjusts Cyrus’s blanket, and sets Cyrus’s phone on the coffee table.

 _We’re not going to warm each other_ or something along those lines is what Cyrus had said.

If it had just been Ella, he knows Cyrus would have stayed in bed.

Suck it up, he tells himself. You have Ella.

Going back to Cyrus’s room, he slides back into bed and feels warmth spread through him when Ella instinctively rolls towards him and presses against him.

I’m not going to mess this up, he wordlessly promises her. I’m always going to be here for you. You’re always going to be safe and warm and well-fed and, if I possibly can give it to you, always going to know nothing but the feeling of being loved. Even when you make mistakes and inevitably act out, I will try my best to be patient and kind.

He knows, in Cyrus’s own way, Cyrus’s distance is a kindness.

There are no more insults, yelling, or acting as if Michael can’t be trusted. When they do talk, Cyrus is civil.

The last time they’d kissed had been at Ethan’s birthday party. Cyrus had asked him to bring Ella, and when he’d transferred her over to Cyrus’s arms, somehow, they’d shared a quick peck.

It’d been so normal and so nice- he wants so badly to share these simple kisses again like they used to before the photos came out.

Other than this-

Once, Cyrus had made a game of placing feather-light kisses all over his body while occasionally coming back up to steal a quick kiss on the lips, and eventually, he’d been so desperate with longing and affection his begging had been genuine rather than following any mental script he’d drawn out for how to best deal with clients.

Closing his eyes, he focuses on his breathing.

You have Ella, he tells himself. You’re close to graduating. You’re warm, and in the morning, you can have a nice breakfast. Everything is fine, everything is good, and it will keep being this way.

With the feel of Ella against him and the faint smell of Cyrus clinging to the sheets and pillows, he drifts back into sleep.

…

“I don’t want to go to school,” Ella insists.

“Jackie Thomas isn’t going to bother you anymore,” he promises. “And you’re going to learn about astronauts this week.”

“Then, why can’t I go to Neptune?”

Seeing Cyrus walk in, he says, “Because your daddy keeps forgetting to buy your ticket. Tell him he doesn’t get his keys back until he eats some breakfast and promises to remember.”

Turning around, she trots over with the plate he made in hand. “Here, Daddy. Uncle Michael put them up so high that even he has to use the steepstool.”

“Step stool, sweetheart,” Cyrus corrects. Giving Michael a look, he accepts the plate and sits down. “It really isn’t part of your job description to make me breakfast.”

“Yes, it is,” Ella says. “Uncle Michael doesn’t want the other husbands and wives to think he’s not taking care of his like you take care of him and me.” She finishes her juice and declares, “If Jackie takes my backpack again, I’m not going back to school!”

“I promise, Jackie isn’t going to bother you anymore,” Michael assures her. “Why don’t you go get your backpack, okay?”

“Kids shouldn’t have to go to school,” she grumbles.

When she’s out of sight, Michael says, “Uh, hey, sorry for falling asleep on your bed.”

“It’s not a problem,” Cyrus tells him. “This is delicious, by the way.”

Grinning, Michael goes to retrieve the keys.

“But what Ella thinks aside, it really isn’t-”

“It’s not a problem,” he echoes. “Hiding your keys, however, is getting to be. I’m running out of places. If you don’t start cooperating, Ella is going to have to take over.”

“I can hide them on the roof.”

“No,” he and Cyrus say at the same time.

“Could!”

Seeing Cyrus is about to go on another lecture about how she is never, ever to climb onto the roof again, he quickly asks, “Ready to go, kiddo?” Picking her up, he says, “Tell Daddy goodbye.”

Ella kisses Cyrus and giggles when he tickles her. “Bye, Dada.”

“Bye, sweetheart. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

…

Ella zooms into the kitchen and plants herself on his feet. “Daddy came home early!”

As if on cue, Cyrus appears with a disgruntled expression on his face. “Don’t mind me, I’m just going to get-” He pauses and looks down at Ella. “There’s an octopus attached to me. Why is this octopus never in her aquarium?”

“It’s on the spaceship to Neptune,” Ella declares.

A genuine laugh escapes Cyrus, and detangling her, he leans down and kisses her forehead. “You’re the best part of my day today, Ella.”

Ella beams.

Not wanting to interrupt the moment, Michael tentatively says, “If you’re hungry, the casserole should be done soon. Tuna. Ella and I are going to have it on the living room floor.”

Cyrus gives him a look, shakes his head, and says, “Have fun. Do we still have peppermint oil?”

Not just a bad day, then, Michael knows. On the advice of his doctor, Cyrus takes an aspirin every morning to help prevent another heart attack, and he tries his best not to take more than one or to take any other over-the-counter painkillers. When he has stressful, headache inducing days, he’ll rub peppermint oil on his chest and lie in the dark with the A.C. on.

He knows he should probably just retrieve the oil and let Cyrus go off, but- “Have you eaten? I can add basil to the casserole. That and a full stomach might help more than the peppermint oil.”

“I can tell you what I learned about astronaut training,” Ella adds.

To Michael’s surprise, rather than this irrevocably deterring Cyrus, Cyrus replies, “Listening to someone smart talk might be just the thing I need more than anything. Alright, sounds good, but unlike the octopus and whatever this one,” he gestures to Michael, “is, I’ll eat on the couch like a normal human being.” Kissing Ella, he stands up. “I’m going to change real quick.”

“I’m not an octopus,” Ella calls after him.

…

In his pyjamas, Cyrus sits on the couch.

“Here.” Michael hands him a plate, some silverware on a paper towel, and a glass of Scotch.

“Thank you,” Cyrus tiredly tells him.

Giving him a sympathetic smile, Michael gets Ella settled on the floor next to the couch with her plate and a sippie cup of iced passion tea.

Sitting across from her, he starts to add a lemon slice to his iced tea when Ella asks, “Do you not like lemons with yours, Dada?”

Suddenly, he realises iced tea and Scotch look the same, and the fact all three of them have different sized glasses is normal to her. She’s not going to know Cyrus’s contains something she shouldn’t drink until she’s much older. Briefly, he wonders if and how should explain, but then, he remembers Ella hates regular iced tea. When she hadn’t liked unsweet, he’d tried making her sweet tea, and she hadn’t liked it any better.

A mom at her school had introduced her to Tazo tea and given him an entire presentation how kids drank too much juice and sodas. He’d agreed with the soda part, but due to Ella’s preference for passion tea over juices, he’d been spared from having to try to explain why he disagreed with reducing juice intake.

Whatever Cyrus’s reasons, his answer is a simple, “No, I don’t like lemon in my tea. I also don’t like unsweet.”

“Me neither,” she declares. “Why do you have a headache, Daddy?”

“I never thought I’d miss Osborne,” Cyrus mutters. “Uh, there are people at work who are supposed to find out information about other countries. And unfortunately, some of them aren’t very smart, and as a result, Daddy gets yelled at by the president for yelling at them.”

“No one deserves to be yelled at,” Ella declares.

Before Michael can interject, Cyrus gives a small laugh. “That’s normal adults and kids like you, baby. These men and women need to be good at their jobs in order to make sure the country is safe, and when they don’t- well, actually, President Grant agrees with you. I’m not supposed to yell at them.”

“Ella, what were you telling me about the gravity on the moon?”

Thankfully, the topic stays on Ella’s day, and Cyrus even has a second helping.

By the time Ella is ready to go take her bath, Cyrus looks much more relaxed.

When he starts to help with the dishes, Michael says, “You don’t need to-”

“I don’t mind,” Cyrus says. “Thank you. You’re right, that did help.”

“Anything else I can do?”

“Unless you can use your persuasive skills to convince the director not to recommend sending more troops to clean up the mess the first troops already made-”

Abruptly, Cyrus stops.

Not sure how he feels, Michael says, “Hey. I’m not working for Liz, anymore. More than that, if the chief of staff’s husband leaks state secrets, I know how badly that could end for me. If you want to talk about something, you can. Really.”

Sighing, Cyrus shakes his head. “Good to know. But I really try not think of these things at home. It used to annoy James so much when I brought work home, and now- well, I wish I’d kept home and work much more separate than I did. It’s better for everything and everyone, including me, if I take a few hours away. Thank you for getting Ella to talk about her day.”

The urge to move over and kiss Cyrus is almost overwhelming, but he has no idea how Cyrus might react. “Glad to help,” he says. “Anything else I can do?”

Cyrus shakes his head, and they finish getting the kitchen cleaned up.

…

His phone chirping wakes him up.

Seeing it’s 2:43, he reads a text saying Cyrus has an emergency at work.

Sighing, he goes to check on Ella and finds her peacefully sleeping.

…

He means to go to the White House and bring Cyrus something to eat, but Ella has an incident at school.

She insists she accidentally knocked Jackie Thomas’s milk off the table, Jackie Thomas insists she deliberately poured it out, and Michael can tell the principal doesn’t like or approve of him.

Thankfully, Mrs Thomas is reasonable.

“None of us can know for sure what happened,” she says. “That’s just a fact. Ella is a very sweet little girl, and I know Jackie can be a handful. Now, can we please try to figure out a way to- If Ella did, I don’t want Jackie to think that this isn’t being taken seriously, but if she didn’t, I certainly don’t want her unfairly punished. What can we do?”

Principal Oakland starts, “If Mr Beene-”

Shaking his head, Michael says, “I’m Ella’s guardian. Whatever you think of me, of my former profession, I have her best interests at heart. Cyrus would be here if he could, but unfortunately, with his job, he can’t. He trusts me to be here. Now, Jackie has bullied Ella in the past, but Mrs Thomas is right, we can’t know for sure if Ella did or didn’t deliberately pour the milk out. If she did, that wasn’t the right way to handle things. What are our options for dealing with this?”

Mrs Thomas gives him a small smile and reaches over to squeeze his hand.

Warmth floods him at the kindness of it.

…

After school, he drives Ella home.

“I didn’t mean to,” Ella insists. “I bumped into the table, and my hand accidentally hit it.”

“I know. I believe you,” he promises her.

“I don’t think the teachers do.”

“Sweetie, no one saw what happened. I believe you. Mrs Thomas would like to believe Jackie, not because she doesn’t like you but because parents want to be able to believe their kids won’t lie to them. But with no one else seeing it happen, other people who don’t know you or Jackie so well, they just don’t know what really happened.”

She sighs.

Hoping changing the subject will help, he asks, “Do you have homework tonight?”

“We did it in class.”

He nods. One of the things he likes about her school is the amount of homework is reasonable, and often, the teacher will help the kids get started near the end of the day. Ella usually finishes hers quickly and has it checked and turned in before it’s time to leave.

“Is Dada going to be mad at me?”

Looking over, he immediately says, “No, of course not. What makes you think he would be?”

She shrugs. “He doesn’t know me well.”

What in the hell do you say to that, he wonders. If he tried to talk to Cyrus- Cyrus could react ugly. Their tentative truce is unlikely to stand any in-depth criticism of Cyrus.

“Hey. Uh, look- Sometimes, I wish your daddy would spend more time with both of us, especially you. But when you’re older, I think you might be able to better understand why he doesn’t. His job is one of the most important in America, and he’s very good at it. Right now- there are a lot of people in other countries who don’t like ours, and he’s trying to make things better so that, hopefully, even if they never like us, we can all get along. We don’t have to worry about them trying to hurt us.”

“Like me and Jackie. We don’t have to like each other, but we have to be polite to each other and not steal backpacks or pour out milk. But I’m not saying different, that was an accident. And next year, we’re going to be in different classes and won’t have to see each other much.”

“Pretty much,” he agrees. “And yes. I promise, next year, you’ll be in different classes.”

He hopes he’s right and Ella will understand instead of growing up with issues and acting out when she’s older.

…

Cyrus comes home and gets in the shower before Michael even fully registers he’s arrived.

Given how long the shower lasts, he has a good idea of what Cyrus is doing, and when Cyrus comes out with a vaguely frustrated, defeated air, he knows it didn’t help.

He knows, eventually, Cyrus is going to get truly fed up and, being far more careful, discreetly find someone else.

After the photos came out and he moved in, he was grateful for the fact Cyrus didn’t want to touch him. After the last time- he knew when it was happening it wasn’t about trying a position they hadn’t before or keeping quiet for Ella’s sake, it was about Cyrus trying to gain dominance and possibly about humiliating him and making him feel degraded.

He’d had more than enough of this from past clients.

Now- the first time he was too tired or simply not in the mood, Cyrus would likely take issue.

He has many advantages over most other parents due to Cyrus’s money, and looking back at his own childhood, Ella doesn’t require anywhere near as much as he did. A housekeeper cleans the house, neither he nor Cyrus care if Ella’s room is a little messy, and with all of his classes are online, he can schedule shopping and preparing meals for around them. Her school is well-equipped to deal with her education during actual school hours. She’s well-behaved, and he loves all the time he’s able to spend with her.

There are times, though, it’s tiring.

Yet, even with all this, he sometimes can’t help but wish Cyrus did want to touch him again.

“Is everything settled with Ella?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “Rough day?”

Making a noise, Cyrus sardonically asks, “How could you tell?”

“You’re radiating frustration,” he answers. “You know, uh, I could help you with that?”

“Thank you for going to the school today,” Cyrus says. “Do you think Ella actually did purposely spill that kid’s drink?”

“No. I believe she accidentally knocked it over.”

“Good. Is there any casserole left?”

“Yeah. Um, Ella and I’ve already eaten, but if you wanted, I could sit with you while you ate.”

“Whatever you want,” is Cyrus’s dismissive reply.

He sits while Cyrus goes to the kitchen and tries to swallow down the hurt.

This is just a job, he tells himself. Except when it comes to Ella, and for her sake-

Cyrus could take away his ability to be part of her life right now. Eventually, when the contract is satisfied, there’s no doubt Cyrus’s name will be on the divorce papers as soon as possible, and part of being able to keep being part of Ella’s life after this happens means not making Cyrus ever hate him again.

_I know what you like, Cy. I could make you forget all about your bad day and thoroughly banish any trace of your headache. Believe me, all I’d ask in return is for you to let me stay in your bed and fall asleep next to you like a normal husband._

Cyrus’s phone breaks him out of these thoughts.

Grabbing it, he takes it to the kitchen.

Groaning, Cyrus accepts it. “Hello, Olivia. What do I have to do to get a little bit of- No! Yeah, I’m hanging up now.”

He does.

“What was that about?”

“Olivia and I disagree on how to handle a situation. She’s going to keep calling, but unfortunately, turning my phone off isn’t an option.”

As if on cue, Cyrus’s phone rings and _Livvie_ fills the screen.

Michael grabs it, and ignoring Cyrus sputtering, answers, “Ms Pope, as politely as possible, whatever’s going on with you and my husband, deal with it later. I let him answer once. If he tries to again, I’ll hurt him.”

“Michael? You and Cyrus- No, I’m sorry. Of course. Later,” she hurriedly agrees.

He hangs up and finds Cyrus looking at him with a truly grateful, almost awestruck expression.

Smiling, he sits down, and somehow, both he and Cyrus are laughing.

…

He brings Cyrus the last of the casserole for lunch.

“You’re a godsend,” Cyrus declares.

Setting the plate down, he says, “I’ll get you some tea. According to Ethan, who, by the way, I need you to promise you aren’t going to attack any CIA agents so that I can reassure him, you’ve severely gone past your coffee limit.”

“Why would I attack the incompetent idiots who almost caused an international incident? Just because we almost lost an entire platoon of soldiers who never should have been sent in the first place due to-”

“You know what, forget the tea, I’m going to get you some apple cider, okay?” He picks up the coffee cup.

“I take it you still secretly hate me, then,” Cyrus grumbles.

“Yep,” Michael agrees. “I hate you so much I’m trying to spare you a sugar caffeine-induced headache and, more importantly, dying from insanely high blood pressure. You like apple cider, Cy.”

When he gets back (after narrowly escaping having to sign a blood oath promising he will try his best to protect any Secret Service agents from being recruited into shooting CIA agents), Cyrus gives him a tired smile. “Thank you.”

Michael leans down to set the apple cider down, and putting a hand on Michael’s arm, Cyrus leans over and presses a gentle kiss against his lips. “Truly. Thank you.”

He almost knocks over the apple cider. “Uh, no problem. Anything else I can do?”

…

Everything is still tingling when he runs into Liz.

She grabs him before he can move past. “Michael. We should talk.”

“I don’t think so. Move your hand, Liz.”

She does but continues standing in front of him with her cool, amused smile. “Whatever you think of me, remember you agreed to help of your own free will. And I promise you, he’s done far worse things than I ever have. You love his little girl, don’t you? She deserves better than him. I could help you get her and his money so that you could take care of her. We both know, in a few years, he’s going to make you disappear.”

“I do love Ella,” he quietly agrees. “And I know he’d die for her. James Novak’s daughter. If he can help it, he’ll never hurt her. So, it’ll be a cold day in hell before I help take her other father away from her. Goodbye, Liz.”

“If you change your mind, you know how to reach me,” she says.

…

When Cyrus gets home, Michael makes sure Ella is soundly asleep before going to Cyrus’s room.

Glancing over, Cyrus starts to undo his tie and announces, “All CIA agents are still alive. Or if they’re not, it’s not by my hand.”

“Good,” he says. Going over, he stills the hand on the tie and leans down to kiss Cyrus.

Cyrus responds, and pleasure courses through Michael.

Then, however, Cyrus steps back as far as he can with Michael’s hands holding him in place. “This- Let’s not. If you want something, just tell me.”

Hurt and shame flood him, but he takes a breath.

I’ve had worse, he reminds himself.

“I thought I was making it pretty clear what I want, but my bad,” he says. Tugging the tie full off, he plays with the hair on the back of Cyrus’s neck. “I explained to Ella that you and I were going to have some private time and she needed to stay away from your room unless there was something she really needed. She’s asleep now. I want to have sex-”

“Have it with someone else,” Cyrus interrupts.

He steps away and disappears into the closet.

Michael sits down on the bed.

When Cyrus reappears and sees he’s still there, Cyrus groans. “Please. I just want to take a shower and go to bed.”

“Say you don’t want this, and I won’t push,” Michael tells him. “Otherwise, though, we both your shower time is just going to make you want this more. I don’t want someone else. If I did, I’d be with them. Come on, Cyrus. You’ve been married twice. Three times if you count me. Do you really find it that hard to believe that someone could want you without wanting something in return?”

“From someone I was in a loving, committed relationship with, no. From someone who spent months calling me Satan, which, admittedly, I deserved, yes.”

Before Michael can respond, Cyrus sits down next to him and softly says, “I don’t want to be Satan, anymore. Not again. Not here. I can live with being a monster out there, but I don’t want to be Satan in my own house. I don’t want my daughter to live in a house where I’m that.”

“You’re-”

“And that’s aside from the fact, before that, you were sent, and I paid you for sex. Maybe even without Liz and the money, you would have seen me and still bought me that drink. I highly doubt this, but- you seem to think I know you, and I really, truly don’t understand where this idea comes from. I know you’re a good person, and I know how much Ella loves you and that you love her back, but I don’t know you, Michael. I don’t know what kind of men you chose when money wasn’t a factor. I don’t know if you believe in God, your favourite books and movies, or how you vote.”

“And,” Cyrus quickly says, “on the last one, please, never tell me. Especially don’t tell me if you’re one of those people who doesn’t vote. I believe that it’s better if couples, or even just people pretending to be a couple, keep how they vote between themselves and the voting machine.”

Laughing slightly, Michael nods. “Okay. My first boyfriend wasn’t so much a boyfriend as a confused boy who wanted sex. We were both fifteen. My time as a pro helped me develop much better instincts.”

“You’re willing to do bad things to get ahead, and you’re crueller than I would have imagined when someone crosses you, but you genuinely care about this country. You truly want to help make the world a better place, and you’re willing to give so much to people you care about. If money and Liz weren’t involved, it would have depended on how much I hated myself that night. Did I feel I deserved someone who’d make me feel good, who’d insist on a bed, or should I just move on and find some jerk to have a quickie with in the toilets? If the former, then, yeah, I would have bought you that drink.”

“I’m not trying to get anything out of you. I just thought- sometimes, I miss sex. You do, too. When you kissed me earlier, I thought this was another way we could be there for each other. But I won’t push. If you say no, I’ll leave, and we can go back to how we have been.”

Cyrus sighs, and then, Michael’s head is turned, and Cyrus kisses him.

When his hands starts to go for the buttons on Cyrus’s shirt, Cyrus grabs his wrists, and resignation settles inside him when he takes in the familiar look of determination to prove something on Cyrus’s face.

…

Everything inside him is floating.

If Cyrus had been determined to prove something, it hadn’t been at Michael’s expense. No humiliation or degradation had been on the menu.

Cyrus had been thorough, slow, experimental in a safe, good way, and when Michael had ended up begging, it had been willing and propelled by the overload of pleasure and desperate need for more.

Wrapping around Cyrus and nuzzling his head against Cyrus’s, he fuzzily says, “I believe in God, but I’ve never been very religious. It’s sort of a case of, you can take the boy out of the bible belt, but you can never completely take the bible belt out of the boy. Without denying the racism, I’ve always loved Gone with the Wind. I once wrote an essay comparing and contrasting the book and movie. I like the book better. I like soft rock and certain types of country. I listen to classical or soft jazz when I’m studying for something important. I won’t tell you who I’ve voted for, but I’m one of those people who votes the person, not the party. There’ve been times, due to circumstances, I couldn’t vote, but when I could, I always did.”

Letting out a soft sound, Cyrus turns his head and tenderly kisses him.

He feels Cyrus falling asleep and follows suit.

…

In the morning, he doesn’t have to hide Cyrus’s keys, and they disgust Ella by sharing a quick kiss. She stabs them both with a spoon before letting them touch her and informs them, if she catches cooties, she's definitely never going back to school and they'll have no one to blame but themselves.

…

On a parking bench, Cyrus sits down next to Olivia.

“He’s supposed to hate me. Liz found a desperate man who was so broken, he did what he thought he had to do. And I- hurt him. Once before the photos came out and for months after. I hurt him, Liv, and he’s so attached to Ella- Do you know how many times I left my phone alone in his presence? How many times I’ve ‘causally’ let things he could use against me slip in conversation?”

“I can’t imagine why a decent man might not go after the father of the child he loves,” she comments.

“Because I was Satan! James- James wanted to take Ella and leave. He had that right. If he ever had, we both know I- I don’t know, but I’m not sure there was anything I could have done. But Michael can’t be happy in this sham of a marriage. He can’t think I have any right to be Ella’s father when he’s so clearly, undeniably better at it than I ever will be.”

Quietly, she tells him, “He’s a good person, Cyrus. You’re not the first person to hurt him. More than anything, he wants a family. Someone to love and to love him.”

“He shouldn’t make the mistake of loving me, Olivia. Because I can never love him back.”

“Because of what he did?”

“No. Because I’m sick and tired of loving decent people. If I ever fall in love again, I’m going to make sure the person is just as much of a monster as I am.”

“Good luck with that, Cy.” She stands up. “You know better than most that love isn’t a choice.”

“Putting yourself in a situation where you’re liable to fall is,” he counters.

“If you hurt my goddaughter’s stepfather, I’ll hurt you,” she warns.

He watches her walk off.

…

After checking on Ella, Michael goes to Cyrus’s room and finds Cyrus already in bed. Sitting, Michael leans down to kiss him. Letting his hand play with the hem of Cyrus’s shirt, he asks, “How ‘bout a repeat?”

Touching his hand, Cyrus shakes his head. “Too tired.”

Michael nods and gives him a quick kiss.

“If- if it sounded good to you, I wouldn’t mind not falling asleep alone. You could stay.”

“Sounds good,” he says. “I’ll go change real quick.”

He changes, rechecks on Ella, and telling himself to stop being nervous and so excited, goes into Cyrus’s room.

The book Cyrus was reading is sitting precariously on his chest, and Cyrus has dozed off. Getting a bookmark and slipping it into the book, Michael sets it aside, plugs in Cyrus’s phone, and turns off the lights. Slipping into bed, he tries not to jump when Cyrus shifts positions.

Once Cyrus has settled, Michael closes his eyes.

There’s still a good chance it’ll never be a true marriage in every sense of the word, he knows, but they have warmed to one another.

Sleep comes easily and quickly with no fight from him.


End file.
